


Greyscale

by Vozana666



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, M/M, Oneshot, Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vozana666/pseuds/Vozana666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy was born with black and white vision, which is apparently a rare thing amongst wizards and witches, but can be cured by them finding their soul mate.</p><p>(Tumblr prompt, oneshot!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greyscale

Greyscale

 

 

 

When Draco told his parents at four years old that he could only see in black and white, needless to say Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were very worried. They called everyone they possibly could; expensive healers, ministry workers, Severus-, but only one person was able to explain to them how this could come to be.

 

“Draco Malfoy has a soul mate,” Albus Dumbledore said, sitting idly in a chair in the Malfoy’s lavish library.

 

“Are you sure about this Dumbledore?” Narcissa asked, “It’s a very rare thing amongst wizards and witches-.”

 

“Oh I’m absolutely certain,” Albus said with a small smile, “it has happened, to many people- a few students at Hogwarts; myself-.”

 

“So you can see colours now?” Lucius asked.

 

“Alas my dear boy,” Albus said with a sigh, “my world is back to being grey.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Draco was standing in Madam Mulkins, gazing out the window in a bored fashion while a  woman, he presumed was Madam Mulkin herself; he wasn’t listening before, attended to his robes. He’d been standing there for about an hour now, if not more; looking at the dull passing people with their black and white hair and books and clothes and bags. Everything was black and white, greyscale, whatever you wanted to call it, it was dull.

 

His parents had stupidly attempted to teach him colours. But he couldn’t tell the difference between the hues other than the fact that some of them were a little grey, others were black, some were a lighter grey and some were white. They said they were just trying to help him attempt to be ‘normal.’

 

That had hurt. But he hadn’t let it show.

 

But he couldn’t help but think, every time that he looked at a dull grey flower, or looked up at the dull grey and white sky, that he hadn’t signed up for this and that his supposed soul mate had better hurry up and make the world a much more interesting place, because this? This was torture. Not being able to acknowledge or enjoy what everyone else took for granted.

 

He continued to look out the window and noticed a small crowd of what he assumed to be first years crowding around the window and looking into the robe shop. Some of the people were looking at him and pointing and he could see their mouths moving and saying things to their parents or guardians.

 

Draco felt his cheeks heat up, and he was sure they were red. He had read in many books before about characters getting embarrassed, their faces heating up and turning red. He wished he could see their redness. How red would his cheeks be? What did red even look like?

 

There were two kids close up to the window, one was a young girl, who looked a little excited, she was already holding an armful of first year spell books from Flourish and Blotts, her light coloured hair blew softly in the wind as she looked up at her parents and said something to them. They gave her a soft warm smile, as if to humour her.

 

There was a boy next to her, in glasses and raggedy clothing. Draco’s first instinct was to sneer at the boy; it was what his parents had taught him however. But he couldn’t put his heart into it. He hated seeing poor people. Not because they made him feel sick; because they made him feel bad.

 

He looked at the contrasting features between the two; one looked rich and comfortable in her surroundings. The other looked poor and looked between running into the store and running away from the whole of Diagon Alley.

 

That’s when Draco noticed that the world wasn’t so grey anymore.

 

Draco looked at the grass outside of a store, his jaw slackened as he felt Madam Mulkin pinning up the sleeves of his robes. The grass was green, he assumed. His parents had taught him a few things, like how the grass was green and how the sky was blue and how dirt was brown. He looked at the girl who’s hair sparkled differently now. It wasn’t white like he had first assumed, there was a tinge of colour to it that he couldn’t explain.

 

He looked at the boy. The only colour he recognised was the green of his eyes and the black of his hair, everything else was a colour he couldn’t identify. It was scary and exciting; Draco could finally see colour.

 

Draco was sure the girl was his soul mate.

 

 

(***)

 

 

In sixth year, Draco was dating the blonde haired girl that he had first seen in front of Madam Mulkins. Her name was Astoria Greengrass, and she was a pureblood, which his parents approved off; in fact they were good friends of the Greengrass family, and regretted that they didn’t let Draco have a play-date with their little girl sooner.

 

Though, Draco was a little worried. He had studied a lot more about soul mates in his fourth year; he had been contemplating asking out Astoria at the time. They were in the same year, the same house, and they had most of the same classes together; Draco definitely liked her, but he couldn’t break it to her that they were soul mates. Not yet. Draco didn’t know how much about soul mates that the little girl knew.

 

But from what he had found in the old dusty textbooks in the Hogwarts library, hadn’t really made him feel confident about his relationship with Astoria now. Kisses were supposed to feel magical every time. Contact with the person was meant to improve his mood. He was supposed to feel comfortable with the person in every single way; supposed to be able to share secrets with them, tell them that he loved them, cried with them.

 

Draco felt nothing like that for Astoria.

 

He liked her; that was true. But he would never cry in front of Astoria, he felt as if the blonde would just laugh at him or mock him for it. Astoria wasn’t exactly the nicest girlfriend; and the kisses were boring. The first time had been okay, but afterwards, Draco may as well have been kissing a stuffed teddy bear for all of the excitement it brought him.

 

After yet another make out session with Astoria, in the boy’s dormitory, in which he felt nothing, even after she had taken her shirt off and let him feel her breast under her bra, he went to Dumbledore. The password was red vines, and he went up the moving stairs before knocking on the headmaster’s office door.

 

“Come in.”

 

Draco turned the door handle and walked into Dumbledore’s office and plunked himself down into the chair in front of his desk without invitation.

 

“Draco,” Dumbledore said, not even sounding a little bit surprised, “to what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked.

 

“I want to talk about soul mates.”

 

He straightened up, eyes looking concerned, “the world hasn’t turned black and white again, has it?”

 

Draco shook his head, “uh...no sir,” he muttered, he still felt uncomfortable talking to Dumbledore about this. But who knew more than the man sitting right in front of him?

 

“I...” Draco bit his lip, “Astoria is...boring,” he said, “and in all the text books it says being with your soul mate makes everything feel ten times better or more amazing that what I’m experiencing with Astoria- am I doing something wrong professor?” he asked, “is _she_ doing something wrong?”

 

Dumbledore sighed and laced his fingers together, gazing at Draco like he was some interesting specimen in a jar, rather than a human being, “are you sure that Astoria is your soul mate, Draco?”

 

Draco nodded hastily, “when I saw her the world went colourful again.”

 

Dumbledore gave him a grim smile, “perhaps you should try to remember who else was there at the moment of colour.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco lay in bed, trying to remember that time when he had been getting his robes adjusted in Madam Mulkins. The small crowd of students and parents at the window, probably full of parents trying to convince their children that getting their robes fitted wasn’t all that scary.

 

There had been Astoria, standing and smiling, conversing with her parents as she did so. Even when she was eleven, she had had an odd sort of elegance. But, that wasn’t important to Draco.

 

He kept thinking. Nobody else really stood out until...

 

Potter

 

Draco growled and opened his eyes; Potter naturally had to get in the way of everything, even his goddamn memories. He was stuck. He could only remember Potter, Astoria, Hagrid and Astoria’s parents. Everything else was a blur.

 

He turned off the lamp beside him and decided to go to sleep.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

It was during the war at Hogwarts that the world suddenly went grey again. Draco gasped aloud, remembering that Dumbledore had warned him what may have happened once his world lost colour again.

 

The last time Draco had seen Astoria was with Blaise, sitting down in the Slytherin common room. Draco couldn’t run now. Some of the other Death Eaters might assume that he was fleeing towards the obviously winning side; they might kill him.

 

But he had to know what was wrong with Astoria.

 

Suddenly, Voldemort’s voice was in his head. Out of reflex action, he covered his ears; but that didn’t help.

 

He could hear the numerous gasps of surprise and a small cry from not too far away as Voldemort announced that Harry Potter was dead.

 

 _Great_ , Draco thought, _Astoria’s dead and so is our only fucking chance of winning the war, way to go Potter_.

 

He opened his eyes, that he hadn’t realised he screwed shut along with covering his ears and he looked down.

 

He was standing in a puddle.

 

It was red.

 

 

(***)

 

 

He rushed into the portrait hole and ran into the Slytherin common room. He paused in his footsteps, trying to catch his breath. He felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

 

Astoria pushed herself away from Blaise Zabini and looked at Draco with shock, “Draco, wow, um- I can explain!”

 

Draco shook his head and swallowed harshly, “don’t,” he said, feeling like he was going to be sick, “I-I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me.”

 

Astoria’s cheeks were red, and Blaise was sitting there quietly, not looking at Draco. Draco glared at him, _you’re supposed to be one of my best friends you bastard_ , he thought to himself.

 

“Astoria,” he said slowly, trying not to focus too much on what he had just seen and more on what had happened to his coloured vision, “have you...died at all today?”

 

Astoria looked confused, “umm...” she shook her head slowly, “no Draco...I haven’t...”

 

She looked like Draco had gone around the bend, but Draco couldn’t help but sigh, he didn’t know if it was with a feeling of disappointment or relief, “is Blaise your soul mate?” he asked suddenly.

 

Astoria bit her lip, “you’re one of them huh?” she asked, “one of the rare wizards and witches with soul mates?”

 

Draco nodded.

 

Astoria looked at Blaise, “yes he is,” she said, “I found out not too long ago.”

 

Draco nodded grimly, “alright,” he said, slowly stepping backwards, feeling for the portrait hole, “I’ll leave you to it then,” Draco said, successfully finding the edge of the stone wall and stepping out of it.

 

He didn’t even need to say it was over. They both just knew.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry Potter was alive and he had killed Voldemort in the Great Hall, once and for all. Everyone was attending to their wounds, holding ice packs to their cut lips, or Madam Pomfrey was attending to them with a few medi-witches and wizards from St Mungos over in the far corner. The dead were sitting over in another corner, The Weasley family were standing near a body which Draco knew from seeing earlier, was Fred Weasley.

 

Harry was standing over near another corner, looking pale and his face stone-like. Though, he couldn’t blame him; he had just killed one of the most dangerous, practically immortal wizards of all time.

 

Draco sighed and left the Great Hall and didn’t look back.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Draco sat down in a small cafe, drinking a latte and pouring over a book in front of him. It was a newly published history book, from a relative of Bathilda Bagshot that had obviously gotten the woman’s flair and love for history. This history book featured a lot about the Hogwarts war. When Draco had picked it up from Flourish and Blotts the other day, he was tempted to just put it in his bookshelf and leave it there to gather dust; he didn’t know if he wanted to relive those moments of terror through the pages of a book.

 

But there he was, sitting in a cafe next to the window reading about it. He didn’t feel anything; not any type of rising panic attack or sick feeling in his stomach. It was just like reading some fucked up children’s novel.

 

The bell on the door rang in front of him and he looked up, like he did every time. That was the one irritating thing about getting the window seat; getting distracted by a shadow and the ringing of a bell every time someone walked into the cafe.

 

For the last few months, the colour in his world had started to become less vibrant; like his soul mate was _slowly_ dying and so the colour was _slowly_ draining away.

 

But when he looked up at the person who entered the cafe, the colour came back full force, without a moment hesitation. He gasped slightly, causing the man to look down at him.

 

Harry Potter looked down at him through the lenses of his glasses for a moment and gave him a small tentative smile before his eyes slowly began to widen in surprise.

 

“ _YOU!?”_

_“YOU!”_

(***)

 

 

Harry kissed his neck lightly and lay down on the bed beside him, “how was your day?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. When Draco had been dating Astoria, every time she asked she’d made it sound more like an obligation, than a genuine interest in what was going on in his life.

 

“It was fine,” Draco said with a shrug, “better ever since you got home.”

 

Draco had been dating Harry for about four months when they had decided to move in together. They lived in Draco’s apartment, seeing as it was big enough for the both of them and maybe about five other people as well. Harry’s friends and even Draco’s own thought it had been a little premature of a move in, but they didn’t understand the situation like they did.

 

“Oh; yeah?” Harry asked; giving him a cocky grin and lacing his fingers on his right hand with the fingers on Draco’s left.

 

Draco and Harry both gazed at the beautiful ring on Draco’s finger. Harry wore a similar one on his left hand. The story was rather funny to be honest. They’d gone out to dinner, just the two of them, both being extremely nervous; Draco was worried that Harry already knew and that he was going to say no. But towards the end of the night, they both had silver bands on their wedding finger; they’d both decided to propose to one another on the same night.

 

“Definitely,” Draco said with a small smile, “how was your day?”

 

Harry shrugged, “same ol’, same ol’,” he said, “no significant improvement.”

 

Draco smacked Harry’s arm lightly, making the dark haired man laugh, “I’m kidding!” he exclaimed. He lay down properly in bed and curled up next to Draco, still holding onto the blonde’s hand, as if it were a lifeline.

 

“I love you Draco,” Harry said with a small smile.

 

Draco smiled back and gave Harry a small kiss on the forehead, “I love you too.”


End file.
